


i will let you down.

by alekszova



Category: Detroit: Become Human (Video Game)
Genre: Angst, Break Up, Established Relationship, M/M, One Shot, my apologies
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-01-11
Updated: 2019-01-11
Packaged: 2019-10-08 02:55:36
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 5,083
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/17378264
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/alekszova/pseuds/alekszova
Summary: Gavin isn't good enough for Connor. He knows this more than anyone else in the world. He doesn't need it told to him, because he's been aware since the moment they first kissed.





	i will let you down.

**Author's Note:**

> “Everything feels right with the world...and the sad thing is that I know it's a dream. I know it must soon end, and when it does I will be thrust awake into a place where either I'm broken, or the world is broken.”   
> Challenger Deep - Neal Shusterman

He is a pro at crying quietly. He grew up with thin walls, his sister on the other side. His brother a few feet away on the other side of the room. His father wandering the halls late at night to make sure they aren’t sneaking out.

He learned how to cry quietly from his mother, though. Hold his breath, keep a hand pressed over his mouth. Suffocate the wails until his throat feels raw and torn apart. Don’t let anyone else hear. That is always the first step.

The step after that is much more difficult— _don’t let anyone see._

Wash his face with cold water, make sure there aren’t any remnants of tears. Put the blame of the redness of his eyes on tiredness.

Most of the time, he would close the door, tell Eli to fuck off while he took a nap but instead hid under the covers and had his hand clamped over his mouth, doing his best not to cry loud enough for his sister to hear on the other side. And when he “wakes up”, his eyes are just like that because he’s still a little tired, that’s all. _That’s all._

It is much more difficult crying quietly around an android. He can sneak out of the bed, but Connor will notice if he’s gone too long. He’ll notice if he’s just a little bit too loud.

And he used to want that from Eli. That maybe he’d notice and he’d come comfort him, help brush away the tears and come up with an attack plan to help deal with the source of them. Frustration or sadness or just—

Anything.

But now that he has it, all he wants is to be alone. He’ll sneak out of bed, whisper about a cigarette or the bathroom and tries to use that five minutes to the best of his advantage.

Crying is much more difficult than just limiting oneself to _five minutes,_ though. Once they start, they don’t want to stop. They just keep spilling until he has his teeth closed over his hand, biting down to try and stop them.

He is a pro at crying quietly.

But he is a pro at crying quietly around humans and not androids.

 

He doesn’t have work today, but Connor does. He tries his best to keep him here like he normally does. Fingers hooked around his belt loops, trying to tug him back into the apartment, kissing him again and again while Connor breaks each one trying to say that he’s going to be late.

Gavin doesn’t really know when something clicks inside of him. When something shifts and tells him he’s doing something wrong, that they are wrong. It’s happening more and more frequently. Not just a once a month thing but nearly every day. Thinking of how _wrong_ they are.

And he realizes that even that isn’t true.

The problem isn’t _them._ It’s not _Connor._ It just _Gavin._

Gavin is wrong.

“Hey,” he says, bringing his hands up to hold Connor’s face still. “I love you.”

He doesn’t know who he’s trying to prove it to. Himself or Connor.

 

He _does_ love Connor. More than anything in the world. That’s why it’s so painful. If he felt nothing for him, it would be easy. He wouldn’t even care about the pain he might be causing. But he does.

 

Gavin doesn’t really think about it. He just needs to get away. Laying in the dark opposite of Connor and seeing his peaceful features, smooth and undisturbed and all he can think of is the fact he needs to leave. It’s not like it happens every night. It doesn’t even happen every week. Sometimes it just hits him how absolutely unbalanced they are. How _wrong_ he is for Connor.

Connor is an android. He’s beautiful and imperfect only in ways that makes Gavin like him more. Like his lopsided smile. Like his inability to keep that one bit of hair pushed back. He kept the LED and he rips off the other identifiers of his android uniform but he doesn’t hide who he is. He’s a shitty cook and he’s bad at things that an android should be good at. And he’s perfect in a way that makes Gavin smile and laugh and want to kiss him constantly.

There are just moments when he thinks of this. Gavin is nothing. He is a pitiful human with too much baggage. He is filled to the brim with hatred and anger. He has spent his nights with random men because he knew no one would ever be able to care for him. And when they give the scars on his body disgusted looks he knows it doesn’t matter because he wouldn’t see them again.

And then Connor came along, and he changed everything and he gave him the hope that—

Maybe he was good enough. And sometimes he remembers that.

And sometimes he remembers how Connor is so _wrong_ about that.

So he gets up like he always does when he needs to escape. Careful and quiet until he’s out in the living room and he finds shoes by the door and jeans from the laundry basket, clothes left unfolded in his distraction of something else. He grabs the coat off the hook, the keys out of the dish, pushes the door open and leaves.

He walks quickly. As fast as he can manage towards the elevator. He doesn’t want Connor catching him if he realizes he left. All he wants is to be alone. He wants to find somewhere he can finally scream while he cries without having to worry about someone else hearing.

The stupidity in his actions always fucking astounds him.

How much he craved to have someone to listen to his problems when he was younger and how now that he does, that he knows someone cares, all he wants to do is shove them away and be alone.

But it’s not like he can talk about this to Connor.

Not when Connor is the cause.

 

He turns his phone over in his hands. Trying to figure out if he can call Tina. He’s already gotten a message from Connor asking where he went. It took him ten minutes to type out “just the store :)” because each time he opened up the message all he wanted to do was spill out the truth. That he’s not good enough for Connor. That they aren’t good for each other. That he cried all the time before but it was never quite like this.

But he can’t.

He loves Connor. He loves him too much to lose him. He wants to keep their relationship as happy and good as he can without the infection of his past in it with the hopes that maybe, someday all of the thoughts will disappear. Fade off into the void of nonexistence.

He pauses, looking down at his phone again. It’s late. Far too fucking late to be calling Tina with his stupid problems. Far too late for him to wake up in the middle of the night and go to the store.

Fuck.

He’s such a stupid fucking idiot.

 

“You’re back.”

“Yeah,” he says, his voice is quiet and small. He still thinks it’s constantly on the verge of breaking even though he made sure he had no tears left to spill when he left the park.

“You didn’t get anything at the store?” Connor asks, looking to his hands.

_Shit._

“They didn’t have what I was looking for,” he whispers. “You want to go back to bed?”

Connor watches him. Cautious glances from his hands to his face where it lingers. Trying to solve a puzzle that he doesn’t have all the pieces for.

“Yes,” he says, reaching a hand out. “Back to bed.”

Gavin forces a small smile on his face, sheds his jacket and his shoes. He takes Connor’s hand tightly, lets him lead him back to the bed where they curl up close to one another. He is lost in the soft scent of strawberries and plastic. A strange mix, but one he has found comforting.

Isn’t it strange how he can spend an hour crying in a park about how Gavin isn’t good for him and come home only to find comfort and love in the arms of the same person?

 

He shouldn’t be jealous, but he is. Connor and Markus talking. Connor _laughing_ and _smiling._ And it’s not as if Gavin doesn’t make him laugh or smile, too, it’s just—

Different seeing someone else do it. Someone that would be better for him. Someone that fought for thousands and thousands of androids. Someone that was the reason Connor even _has_ feelings now.

What has Gavin ever done for him?

Threaten him with a gun three times?

Punch him in the stomach?

 

 

He taps his fingers against the steering wheel, staring out at the parking lot. He’s memorized every car here. Folded down a paper bag from a fast food joint down the street and written notes about everything he can manage. Trying to distract himself before he has to go home. The number of cars. What type. The brand. Colors. How many of them have arrived and left since he got here.

His phone rings and before he even checks the screen he knows it’s Connor. Asking where he is. Probably done with his work and at home expecting to spend some time with Gavin before they turn in for the night.

And he’s _here_. Fucking counting fucking cars.

He slams his hand against the steering wheel, immediately feels guilty about it. He hates when his rage manifests like this. When it turns violent. He can only think of how it could turn against Connor.

And no matter how many times he tells himself that throwing something across a room or slamming something down or even punching himself until he leaves bruises against his stomach and thighs doesn’t mean he would hit Connor, because he would _never_ hit Connor—

But he did once. He pulled a gun on him three times. He would have killed him in that archive room. And he has no idea why they’re together.

One stupid kiss in the rain. Desperate to get across how sorry he felt for it all. Desperate to convey that he was an idiot. That he thought androids were just plastic and coding. He doesn’t want to go back there. Not again.

Fuck.

He’s crying again. Just when he thought his tears had run their course. When he thought that there were no more left, more come creeping around the corner.

 

“Were you at the store again?” Connor asks, his eyes stuck on the table, his fingers turning over the quarter. He’s still dressed in his uniform. Always dressed in that uniform. Gavin constantly want to pry it off of him. He’s just tired of seeing it. It just keeps reminding him of how they first met.

“Yeah,” Gavin says, setting a bag down on the counter. This time he remembered. A pack of cigarettes and some new coffee.

“You find what you were looking for this time?”

He watches Connor for a moment. The way his face is as blank as he can manage it. He’s fighting back an expression with everything he has, and Gavin knows what the means. The expression would show how upset he is right now. That he’s trying not to show it. Doing his absolute best to conceal his feelings.

Gavin has worn that expression enough times to be able to know that just from his profile.

“No,” he says after a while. “I didn’t.”

 

He tries to figure out how to word it. He can’t find a good way. There isn’t a good way, he thinks. There is never a good way.

But there are _better_ ways than leaving a note or a text or a voicemail. There are better ways than wording it brutally and angrily. But he was always very good at being cruel.

 

“Connor?”

“Yeah?” he turns and pauses in the middle of his action, the bag in his hand slumping down against the counter slowly. Because he sees the tears in Gavin’s eyes and probably knows what he’s going to say.

That should make it easier, shouldn’t it?

Less work.

“What’s wrong, Gavin?”

He picked such a shitty time to do this. When there’s dinner that needs to be made and groceries to put away, but he can’t fucking handle keeping this a secret anymore. He can’t handle seeing Connor in his kitchen putting things in the cupboards or sitting in the living room or laying on his bed.

He can’t handle pretending that he gets to have this. That he isn’t slowly chipping away at Connor and bringing him down to his level.

Because that is always what he thinks of when he has to pull Connor down into a kiss. How he is somehow pulling him down into the dirt with him. Further and further down until they’re both at rock bottom.

“I want to break up.”

Connor lets go of the bag, reaches out to the counter like he needs it to steady himself. And he sees the bag slip from it’s spot. Not quite resting enough against the granite. He listens to it as it hits the ground, as the glass jar inside shatters upon contact with the tile.

And the two of them just stare at each other as if it didn’t happen.

“Why?”

_Not good enough. Not good enough. Not good enough._

Not entirely the truth, either. It’s not just that he isn’t good enough. It’s that he’s terrible. Awful. Not even remotely, the tiniest bit _good_. That he is always going to be bringing someone down to his level. That he is never going to be pulled back up.

“I don’t really think I love you anymore,” he says, and he forces himself to shrug. Make this nonchalant. “I don’t know if I ever did.”

“What?”

“Fun while it lasted, though.”

“Gavin—”

“Listen,” he says, and it is easy to fall back into this. Flat voice, a little bit angry, a little bit annoyed. Going about this with lies is easier than saying the truth. Pushing people away is what he does best. “You were an alright fuck and I thought I could have… like a real relationship but I was wrong, okay? So just….”

“Just _what_ , Gavin?”

“Leave.”

Connor’s face is twitching. Falling back and forth between being crumpled into an unbearable sadness and a blankness he’s trying to use as a mask. Neither of them could stand to have the other see them upset. Even in a moment like this, they’re hiding what they really want to say, what they want to show.

And Connor is making no effort to leave. He’s just standing there, leaned against the counter like it’s the only thing in the world holding him up.

“I cheated on you,” he says, and his voice breaks on the last word. It’s so difficult to say. So difficult to force this lie out. To make it something that will hurt Connor enough to make him leave. He has to. He has to inflict a wound so deep Connor will never be able to forgive him. Then there won’t even be the possibility of them getting back together. He won’t even have late night dreams and wants and hopes that would be believable for more than a millisecond.

“You—With who?”

_Who._

He could lie. Say Nines. Markus. Simon. Anybody he actually knows that might even be remotely plausible. But there is too much of a chance that he’d learn the truth.

And if Gavin ever did cheat on Connor, the last person he would go to would be someone Connor is _friends_ with.

“Some random guys.”

“More than one?”

He shrugs, hopes Connor thinks that maybe his random trips to the stores in the middle of the night might leave enough time for him to find some stranger to fuck. That maybe his hiding out in bathrooms or fire escapes could be interpreted as him texting someone else. That he might’ve used days off to go meet them instead.

He hopes because at least then the lie would be more convincing.

“You told me you loved me.”

Another stupid shrug.

“I liked having someone available at night.”

“Right,” he says, and his voice shifts, finally. _Finally, finally,_ to anger. “Because I was an alright fuck. Of course.”

He pushes away from the counter, turns towards the door and pauses, giving Gavin one glance back.

“Go ahead,” Gavin says, and his voice is quiet. “Say what you want to say.”

He seems to fight it for a moment. His eyes narrowed, his jaw clenched. His grip on the door knob is tight. If he were a human, his knuckles would have turned white with the effort.

“Fuck you,” he says, and the words are spit out so vulgarly, so angrily, Gavin knows he deserves them, whether or not he actually cheated on Connor.

 

He hides away in his room. Kicks his cat off the bed and closes the door behind her. Locks it just because the extra safety measure feels like another barrier between him and the real world. He lays down, pulling the blanket over his head, closing his eyes tightly, breathing in the faint scent of strawberries and plastic left on his sheets.

Alone. He’s all fucking alone again.

He can’t even handle having his cat near him because it feels like such a false sense of comfort. She has no idea how terrible of a person he is. She has no idea that one wrong move will switch his sadness over to anger and he’ll find himself snapping at her because he has no willpower anymore. Not when he’s so emotionally drained.

And he doesn’t need that on his conscious. Yelling at a cat that doesn’t understand how upset he is. Or, if she does, all she’s trying to do is help.

He cries quietly here, in his nest of blankets. His hand pressed over his mouth, holding his breath until the need to scream passes by. Until his lungs ache and his throat feels like someone has clawed it up, until his eyes hurt and his head throbs.

The worst part of it is—

It’s his own fucking fault.

 

He gets a voice mail from Tina. The call wakes him up, but he doesn’t bother reaching for it until it’s done ringing. He doesn’t feel like talking right now, which he knows is wrong. Talking would provide a distraction and a distraction is better than feeling this.

But he also knows _why_ Tina is calling. To ask him about their break up. Interrogate him on why they’re no longer together. Which is only a reminder that Connor is better friends with Tina than he is. That he probably sought out comfort from her first because she might be able to provide insight on why Gavin is such a piece of shit.

And then he probably went to Markus.

And can Gavin really blame him if he did?

He opens up the voicemail, bleary eyed and tired and pressing it against his ear, listening to the sound of Tina’s voice.

Not asking him why he did it.

Just asking him if he’s alright.

And his only response is _no_ and he says it even though this is a recording and she can’t hear him. He says it out loud with a broken voice and tears streaming down his face.

 

Gavin doesn’t have a choice but to go into work. He has to get his job done. He needs the money. People are counting on him. He knows Connor will be there. He tries to prepare himself for what he’ll look like. Any amount of sadness on his face. Any amount of anger. He prepares himself for even smiling and joy because that, he thinks, might hurt worse.

That he was so unimportant he could already be happy again. He feels selfish for the thought. That it would be preferable to see Connor sad than happy today.

Except no amount of preparation could really ready him for seeing Connor. No amount of practicing his expression and holding back his thoughts can stop it from crumbling the second he sees him.

And it shatters. Falls apart quickly.

And Connor’s does, too.

 

He keeps watching him. Looking up in between case files to check on Connor during the little time he’s here. Every time he sees Connor watching him, though, he gets up and makes a cup of coffee. He’s had three in the span of the hour. His fingers are trembling and his head is buzzing but the disappearing from Connor’s watchful gaze is worth it.

Because fucking Christ, if they meet eyes once more he is going to start crying in the middle of the precinct.

 

He wakes up for a moment and the dream lingers. Connor is beside him. Reaching out and touching his face, leaving a kiss against his forehead. A quiet awakening that makes him smile. Builds up a little bit of warmth in his chest. And then it falters and breaks.

Connor is not beside him. It is just a cold emptiness. A reminder that he can’t have this. That he will never get to have it. That he should have been gracious while he could pretend it would last, while he could pretend that he actually deserves it. _Happiness._

He doesn’t. He never will.

 

“You think I fucked up,” he tells her. And he heaves out a sigh, pulling his legs up onto the couch, curling in on himself.  “Go ahead. You can admit it. You think I fucked up.”

She takes a small step forward, looks up at him and lets out a tiny meow.

_Right._ Even the cat has an opinion.

At least Hank hasn’t beaten him up. He knows he wants to. He knows Hank is only being kept back because Connor is making excuses for him. Which probably hurts worse than the broken nose he’d get from Hank’s fist. Connor under the impression that he’s a cheater, that he used him, that he never mattered to him, still making excuses.

“I did,” he says. “I really did.”

He wants him so badly. He didn’t realize that before. He knew he would miss Connor but he didn’t realize he would miss him during the most random times. When he sprawls across the couch and he’s missing the warmth of Connor behind him. When he lays down and reaches over and doesn’t have a waist to rest his arm across. When he’s in the shower and he can’t yell at Connor to get him a towel from the cabinet outside the bathroom.

So fucking stupid.

 

He lays on his side, watching the sun rise through the window across from him. His alarm went off an hour ago and he hasn’t moved. The bed is warm and the outside world is so cold. He might not have Connor beside him anymore, but the mattress and the blankets still provide him a layer of protection.

The cat beside him shifts suddenly. Ears perking up as she moves, almost cautious. Her gaze is stuck on the bedroom door for a moment before she gets up and jolts away from him, running fast out of the room. He listens to the sound of her paws running across the floor before it’s followed by the door opening and closing.

Gavin sits up quickly, his hand reaching out blindly to where his gun rests on his nightstand. He used to keep it hidden away in the drawer. Out of sight from Connor. Neither of them like guns, but he knows the deep fear of them that Connor has. How many times one was pointed at him.

And partially, Gavin just hates them because of how easily he had aimed them at Connor’s head, too. That he was one of those people that instilled that fear.

He moves out of his room slowly, the gun at his side as he peers around the corner, ready to aim.

“Oh,” he says. “Are you going to shoot me now?”

Gavin sighs and sets the gun down, “The fuck are you doing here, Con?”

“One of two things.”

“One of two?”

Connor shrugs, “Let me stay or make me leave.”

“W-what?” he sighs. “Connor, I—We broke up. G-get out. I cheated on you. Leave me the fuck alone.”

“And I don’t believe you,” he says, leaning against the counter. “You can’t even say that without forcing yourself. It’s not true. You’re a terrible liar. Ever since I met you, you’ve been a terrible liar and I don’t—I don’t know _why_ you’re lying, but… I know you are.”

“I’m not.”

“You _are_.”

“Fine. Whatever. I still don’t want to be with you, alright?” he says, and it’s harder this time than before. He was more prepared before. He wasn’t prepared for Connor to show up in his apartment this morning. He wasn’t ready to be wearing a mask he could shift and alter for the situation. He’s fucking exhausted. He doesn’t have the energy for this anymore.

“You want me to leave?”

“Yes.”

Connor nods, “Okay. Why?”

He sighs and every _fiber_ of his being is telling him to just say the truth. Tell Connor about every bad thing he’s done and every bad thing he will do. That he will always, always let him down. People always leave him eventually. He has to get there first. Push them away so he has no one to blame but himself.

“I don’t love you.”

Connor moves away from the counter, taking steps towards him. Gavin matches them, stumbling backwards before he hits the wall.

“You’re lying.”

“I’m n-not.”

He opts to stare at Connor’s chest. White dress shirt and neat tie and perfectly ironed jacket. If he stares straight forward he won’t be enticed by his face. What a stupid fucking face it is anyways. Made from plastic but it looks like it was carefully carved from marble. He looks like a statue sometimes. All of his imperfections precisely planned and created to look the most human but instead he doesn’t look human at all. He’s something else entirely. Something _more_.

“You think I don’t see the way you look at me?” he asks. “And I’m not talking about your attraction to me, Gavin. I mean something else. I mean…”

“What, the look of fucking love?”

“Yes.”

Connor’s fingers touch his chin, tilt his head up and he closes his eyes so he doesn’t have to see his face. Stupid brown eyes. Cold and calculating sometimes but warm and welcoming at others. He doesn’t want to see his face at all. It bothers him.

“Connor—”

“You love me. I love you. Why are you trying to drive us apart?”

“Love isn’t always enough.” he says, and they stand in this stupid silence for far too long.

His insides are turning and all he can think about is kissing Connor for the first time. Apologizing to him in the middle of a thunderstorm after a case they were forced to work together. Racing after him because he needed Connor to believe it.

And Connor had. He’d accepted the apology. But it didn’t feel real. It didn’t feel like he truly understood the depth of his guilt.

“Gavin?” Connor says, but his voice is merely a whisper. Barely even audible in the quiet of the room. “Please open your eyes.”

And he does. Like an idiot. He opens his eyes and he sees the pained expression on Connor’s face and it hurts.

Because he knows he caused that.

“I love you,” Connor says, and the words come out slow, careful, deliberate. “And I know you love me, too. I don’t know why you’re lying. I don’t know why you want to break up. I just want you to talk to me.”

“Con,” he says, and he tries to look away, but Connor’s hands move, hold him in place. “We just… love isn’t enough.”

“You said that once.”

“Yeah?” he snaps. “And it’s fucking true. We don’t work. Love isn’t enough. I’m not enough.”

Fuck.

“Gavin?”

Fuck.

He hadn’t meant to say that. But he’s tired. Delirious. His head has been in a constant state of pain for the last few weeks. He isn’t thinking straight. He has a thousand excuses.

He isn’t saying them out loud. He isn’t trying to come up with something else. Something that would explain it away. Something that might convince Connor he didn’t mean it.

But he did. He meant the words. He’s not scared of Connor thinking something that’s untrue. He’s just scared of his reaction.

“I don’t think we should be together,” he says.

“Because you’re scared.”

_Yes._ The longer they’re together the more it will hurt when they inevitably break up. He likes the idea of them lasting forever. He likes the idea of them getting married. He likes the idea of them living in a big house together with too many empty rooms. Making stupid mistakes and buying stupid stuff.

But he’s also a realist. And he knows this will end.

“Do you want to be with me, Gavin?”

“Y-Yeah.”

“So be with me.”

“Con—”

“I love you. And you are enough,” Connor says, and for a moment it makes Gavin smile. Weak and pitiful.

He’s never really heard those words from someone before. Not from someone that mattered to him. Printed on posters promoting positivity but not from the lips of someone he loves. Not from someone that he actually cares about. Not from someone who’s opinion he values.

It’s enough to make him lean forward and kiss him. It’s enough for him to forget for a split second that it’s not true. But he knows when they part, once they stop kissing he will remember it all over again.

He isn’t good enough.

And he will always let Connor down.

“Will you please let me stay?” Connor whispers.

He holds onto his jacket. Tight, ready to push or pull at any moment.

“Yeah,” he says.

Because he isn’t just not good enough. He’s weak, too. He will take what he can get and he will do his best to prepare himself for the downfall. He’ll treat himself with this happiness until Connor realizes what a mistake he has made.

**Author's Note:**

> [hmu on my tumblr](https://norchloe.tumblr.com/) <3


End file.
